In Spite Of It All
by Sintendo
Summary: The conditioning process is supposed to erase most, if not all of a cyborg's memory. But memories can be a fickle thing to deal with. And like all things produced by humans, the conditioning process isn't perfect.
1. He Remembers

_Hello! And thank you for taking the time to read my story!_

_Note: Things to remember when reading:_

**BOLD **_shows anger_

_ITALICS shows thought_

_**BOLD, ITALIC AND UNDERLINE **showtime change, location change, etc._

_Definitions to some foreign words are given at the end of the sentence it is used. (Thanks to Colonel Marksman for this idea)_

_That bar with a name underneath means a perspective change to that character. (Thanks to Colonel. Marksman for this idea)_

_Note2: A thing about the title. It's meant to be read with the chapter title as well. Ex: for this chapter, you'd read "In Spite Of It All… He Continues to Talk". Got it? Cat Fish? _

_Note3: This should be a given, but just in case… **SPOILERS TO THE GUNSLINGER GIRL ANIME, MANGA, AND GAMES ARE CONTAINED WITHIN THIS STORY…. **_

_On with the show!_

* * *

He was considered to be the toughest guy in the city. Be it a fistfight, knifefight, or gunfight; he was untouchable, the Ghost of L.A. they called him. 

He was considered the smartest guy in the area. If you needed something or someone, just ask him and he'll find it within minutes.

He was considered the greatest guy in the city. With thousands of followers behind him, you'd be a fool to cross his path without permission.

Alexander "Alex" Williams was the self-proclaimed King of the streets of Los Angeles.

Like all great kings before him, he led with an iron fist.

Like all great kings before him, he dealt with enemies swiftly.

Like all great kings before him, he was well loved by his followers.

Like all great kings before him, he was destined to fall…

**_In Spite Of It All…_**

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

**_Chapter 1: …He Remembers_**

Basking in the glow of the afternoon sun one fine summer day, Alex trotted to his nearest perch overlooking the streets of present day Los Angeles. Being a child of the streets, it was easy for him to simply climb buildings, jumping from one to another if need be. He knew his fair city like his own brother; every crack, turn, and timing of each stoplight.

Today, however, was not the time for his daily patrol of his and his gangs' territory. He was indeed a sort of "hooligan" or "thug", if you will, but there is one this that he prized the most other than power; education.

"With education," his father – a lowly janitor, working double shifts to provide for his family – constantly reminded him, "You can have anything you want in the world. Do whatever you want; but please learn something along the way."

That is to say, family was as important as furthering his education. After all, what did he need power for, if he couldn't share it?

Today was his first day of 8th grade; the gateway to high school. Today was also his baby sister's first day of kindergarten, seeing as they just celebrated her birthday a month ago, her enrollment was completely legit. And lucky for her, Alex's school was on a K-8 system, so he would be there to keep an eye on her.

It was odd to see a sea of white and navy blue just outside of the school gates. The children in uniform were split into two categories: those who were excited to return to mediocrity, and those who loathed returning to 8 hour hell.

Alex's sister, Abigail, was among the former. Her giddiness and pure adorable attitude sent blissful chills down his spine. How grateful he was to be able to pass his legacy onto his sister. He wanted to pinch her rosy cheeks, but he had an image to keep.

"Alex!" His mother batted his head, "You watch your sister, okay!"

He responded with a rather weak hand wave, his focus concentrated on his smiling father.

"You do know what comes after this, right?"

"What's that?" Alex asked.

"High school, of course!" It was a trick question.

"High school is the best time of your life," A deep voice; Alex's Principal, Mr. Capriani, approached them, "You had better make the best of it."

Alex shook hands with his principal. Surprisingly, his grip wasn't limp. Sure the man did look like a complete queer, seeing as how he used to model for Hugo Boss, but as of now, Alex found a new respect for him.

Not that he had ever disrespected his dearest mentor.

He laughed as he thought of this man. What a life he must have had! A former Carabinieri Gruppo di Intervento Speciale agent turned former Hugo Boss model turned elementary school Principal. Such a random change of pace.

But conforming into military life was not the way Alex saw his future. It was "all politics for me, baby! Hell yea!"

He was going to change his world. And he damn well meant it.

"Don't worry about me, Mr. Capriani," Alex grinned – his trademark smile, "I won't leav you after this year."

"It's not you I'm worried about," He glanced over at a pack of young boys, "It's your friends."

Unlike himself, the underlings of Alex could care less about going to class, no matter how much scolding or beatings they took from him. It took a while for him to learn, but eventually Alex realized that he'd just have to let them be, lest they amassed a coup d'etat and run him out of Los Angeles.

"It's their choice, Mr. Capriani, It's too late for them to change."

"I hate to say this," he took off his sunglasses, "and being Principal of this school, I'm not allowed to… but you're right. They can't be changed now…"

"Don't worry about 'em," Alex laughed, "I'll set them straight once graduatione come—"

Alex was silenced by a sudden burst of gunfire. The screams of thousands of people erupted as several dozen armed men forced everyone like cattle into the nearest building, the school gym. The action was so quick, so sudden, that Alex was separated from his family. Instead, he was being held in place by Mr. Capriani.

Mass confusion broke out. With the orchestra of shouting, crying, and yelling, nobody knew what was happening. Men, even children, who tried to resist were immediately shot directly in front of their family and friends. Empty boxes were held by another set of men, each of them demanding that any and all electronic devices be turned in. Anyone who refused was shot without question, and nearly everyone complied with the order.

Another set of crying erupted when an entire family was shot, execution style, when ther child kicked the shins of an armed man. Only when another burst of gunfire, coupled with a flash bang grenade, did the roars of the confused people cease.

On cue, a masked man - fully equipped with military fatigues, flak-jacket, military carbine, and a vest filled to the brim with rifle magazines and grenades – entered the room, demanding that the Principal of the school step forward.

Slowly, Mr. Capriani relaxed his grip on Alex, bravely stepping forward to face the apparent leader of the group.

"Who are you people and what is it that you want?" he asked with a stern posture.

"You do not need to know who we are," the man said, "you only need know that we have sent demands to your President, and that we are holding you until our demands are met."

"You do know that the U.S. does not negotiate with terrorists?"

"Well, that's a shame you all you, isn't it?" The man chuckled as his soldiers tackled Mr. Capriani to the floor, just as his fist neared the terrorist leader's nose.

Alex witnessed the entire conversation. However something else took his attention away from his mentor being beaten on the floor.

Across the room, several terrorists seemed to be fumbling around with a handful of boxes as the climbed a ladder to reach a basketball hoop. His blood drained from his body at the sudden realization that the men were wiring bombs.

Hours after the initial lockdown of the school, silence filled the room, broken only by a few chattering voices here and there. Police had arrived minutes after the invasion, only to be rid of by snipers located on the second floor of the gym. Now, S.W.A.T. and other Special Forces units surrounded the building, waiting like lions in the brush for a right opportunity to rescues the civilians inside.

The silence was broken, once again, by a burst of gun fire. An announcement from their captors was going to be made.

"This," an armed man said, holding what appeared to be the gas pedal of a car, "Is a trigger mechanism," He carefully placed the pedal on the floor, releasing it with his hands only when he placed his left foot on it, "Once I release this pedal, the entire room will explode."

At this point, all chaos broke loose, albeit vocally; nobody wanted to set off the bomb.

Two days into the imprisonment; anyone who was still alive stripped down to their undergarments. Their captors having shut every entry to the building closed.

Alex was getting restless. He still hadn't located his family, his Principal was knocked unconscious and bleeding from the head profusely, he, and others as well, hadn't eaten in 2 days, and due to the late summer weather, it was well above 100 degrees (Fahrenheit) in the gym.

He plotted with his friends. However, they all came to the conclusion that the situation was hopeless. One of his friends overheard the terrorists and concluded that they were of the Muslim religion.

The best thing for them to do now, Alex ordered, was for them to stay put and hope for the best; even street smarts couldn't muster a decent plan against this kind of situation.

Seconds after his order, however, the plan came shattering down, falling apart the instant he recognized a young girl screaming for her mother as she was carried off by an armed man. At last he had found his sister, but not in the way he wanted to.

Other men followed suit, each plucking the nearest female in sight. It soon became too obvious what these animals were planning to do.

Alex's mind ran with images of him running to the man that carried his sister, and ripping his throat with his bare hands. Adrenaline conquered his senses, and his was soon on his feet, charging into the face of death himself.

* * *

He awoke to the dull sound of a door closing just ahead of him. He slowly opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them again; the shine of bright fluorescent bulbs shining from the dull, gray ceiling. 

Adjusting to the light, he heard the clicking of footsteps approach him. He wanted to see who it was, but his entire body ached.

"Hi there." The warm voice greeted him.

The boy forced his head up, squinting at the shadowy figure that sat at his bedside. He could just barley make out the outline of a man's face, noticing that he had a faint smile.

"This is yours." The man took the boy's hand and placed a cold metal object in his palms. After a few seconds of feeling the details of the object, the boy gulped, realizing that it was a handgun.

"My name is Fillipo," A name that the boy had heard before, "I'll be your handler from now on."

Still blinded by the light, the boy had nothing else to say. What could he have said at that moment, anyway?

"Fillipo," the boy deduced that this voice – a woman's voice in a language that was unknown to him – came from an intercom, "Che cosa state andando chiamargli?"

"What will I name him?" Probably repeating and translating what the woman said, Fillipo gave it some thought before answering, "Bradley."

The boy chuckled, "What?" He half laughed, "What kind of a name is 'Bradley'?"

Fillipo was shocked at the boy's response.

"My name is Alexander Williams, dammit," He forced his eyes open, "Why are you saying all this weird stuff to me?"

Fillipo stood and took a step away from Alex as the boy stared at him.

"Mr. Capriani?" Alex asked, "Where am I? Why did you just hand me this gun?"

Fillipo looked at a wall-mirror at Alex's side, as if to ask for assistance, only to receive none.

"What is this place? Where's my family? Where's Abigail?"

* * *

_Note: Heh. This is just something I thought about while I was at this dance club in L.A. It was getting boring, and my girlfriend wanted to get out so we left for home and watched some T.V. We then started some documentaries about terrorists in Chechnya and other countries, and I was inspired by survivor's stories to write this._

_Update schedule looks a little blocky since I'm working and I still have "Life, Liberty And…" to finish, but look forward to more._


	2. He Continues To Speak

There was a time in Alex's life where he would spend his day – school days, mostly – just wandering about with a group of friends. To Hollywood, Lakewood, Long beach, and back; what they would do is terrorize other local gangs in order to gain territory, even resorting to torturing and killing several key leaders of rival organizations.

For Alex, it was the rush of being so close to death that made him feel alive. His first kill – one they dubbed "Senator" – was what made his entire body tingle, and from then onward, he wanted more of the same feeling. Like other addictive substance, however, the first time is always the most intense and you can never regain that same sensation with future doses.

Alex enjoyed this way of life until he met a certain Italian man who, quite literally, knocked sense into the boy.

Maybe he was at the right place at the right time, but Mr. Capriani was able to put an end to Alex's reign of terror and usher in a few short years or relative peace on the streets.

"What is it that you plan to do with your life?" Capriani once asked him, the boy freshly plucked from the bowels of some run-of-the-mill hookah bar.

"Shit, I dunno…"

"That's complete and utter bull!" Capriani barked, embedding on Alex's face that ever so embarrassing symbol.

"…I'm just," either from the force of the slap, or because he finally realized something, Alex regurgitated a direct answer, "I want to keep my baby sister from people like me."

A broad and subjective answer, if there was any other of its kind. Capriani didn't know what to make of it, but he took it upon himself to lead the boy to the beaten path, rather than stray from the flock. 2 short years later and once again Alex is under his wing. However, Capriani was hoping to start off with a clean slate, only instead to have been assigned an already complete and able citizen of the world.

At least, to the best of his knowledge, Alex was ready for the real world…

**_In Spite Of It All…_**

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

**_Chapter 2: …He Continues To Speak_**

It was a widely known fact among agents of the Social Welfare Agency that Capriani and Chief of the Social Welfare Agency, Lorenzo, had some history together, but not many know exactly what kind of history. The majority of speculations and gossip would point to them serving as Carabinieri Gruppo di Intervento Speciale Agents together, and indeed they would be correct. However, not many know about that special time in life they spent together; a moment in time that turns mortal enemies – or in this case, complete strangers - into the closets friends: the college years.

Early college placed them in the roles of newly acquainted roommates; their common interests rapidly advancing the process and having them become the best of friends within a few months, almost like inseparable brothers.

Following college, the pair was thrust into the mandatory Military service that all Italian men were required to take part in. When they both had gotten used to military life, they flocked to the Carabinieri Gruppo di Intervento Speciale offices, the both of them showing off and brown nosing to get in.

After years of faithful service, the men's minds began to take interest in different hobbies and subjects. Regrettably, they eventually went their separate ways: one becoming the leader of an organization specialized for young children, and the other a school principal.

The irony in their destined career paths could not have been more so.

However, the brotherly bond that they developed never disappeared; the strength of the bond being tested only a few days ago when Lorenzo's spiritual brother gave him a call.

"It's been a while," The most obvious statement between old friends came from the ear piece, "I'm sure you've heard of my situation, Lorenzo."

"Going by a last name basis, I see," Lorenzo wanted to chuckle, but decided that now was not the time, "I'm glad you're okay."

"I need you to do me a favor."

Lorenzo wanted to ask more questions, but his brother had an anxious tone in his voice, almost as if he had little time left.

"Anything you want."

* * *

If raising the dead was that easy, a household containing 10 generations would be a common sight. 

For Alex, however, rising from the dead was not as simple as it sounded. The bed he was sitting upon, the room he was in, the gun in his hand; nothing was familiar to him, save for the man that sat next to him. Something else was amiss. Though unknown to him as of yet, his senses were heightened to that of a wild animal; he detected an unfamiliar scent in the air.

Peeking behind his mentor, Alex spotted an odd couple: a well-built German of a man, and a girl about Alex's own age, sporting blonde pigtails, and an odd skin complexion – darker than that of normal blondes.

"Do you remember what happened 4 days ago?" Capriani took Alex's attention from the cute girl.

The boy stroked his chin, "I was at school… and then these guys… Abigail!" He stood from the bed, "Where is she?"

The answer was not to his liking, "We don't know."

"Then what are we doin' here? Let's go and find her!"

"We can't."

"Bullshit 'we can't'! Mr. Capriani, let's go and find her before those guys do anything to her!"

Capriani repeated his answer.

"Why the hell not?"

"We're in Italy."

Alex fell to his seat, "Italy… what for?" His tone seemed to be a bit calmer.

Capriani forced himself to describe the chain of events that Alex had started.

Alex couldn't quite remember, but as soon as he leapt from the gym floor, thousands of shots rang out; he had been hit several times before he could leap into the air and pounce on the man holding the triggering mechanism for the door bombs, causing them to unleash the hell that each terrorist packed into them: a grave mistake on Alex's part.

With limbs torn from Alex's body, and nearly everyone else caught in the blast blown to kingdom come, Capriani forced his fully intact self up from the floor, and dragged the barely recognizable Alex out to safety.

The US hospitals, however, could only delay the inevitable.

Alex began to weep, not caring that someone of the fairer sex was a witness, "I killed my sister?"

Capriani stroked the boy's head, hesitating a bit before saying, "…I received a report from the L.A.C.C.O forensics lab… Your sister wasn't among the deceased…"

Alex wiped his tears; a shining ray of hope blocked any more tears of sadness to pass his eyes, "So… she's still alive?"

"A possibility," Capriani cringed when he told the truth, "10 children, 10 adults, and 7 of the terrorists were unaccounted for."

That was all the news that Alex needed.

* * *

The 3 guests in Alex's room decided to give him a few moments to reflect before returning, finding him perched on a seat, fiddling around with the empty firearm that Capriani handed him earlier. 

"Why am I here?" the boy asked, not removing his eyes from the weapon.

Capriani sat across from him, as did the German and the blonde and said, "This was the only way to save your life."

"I guessed as much, but why am I here? What do I do now?"

Capriani answered bluntly, "You're body is now 70 percent augmented with artificial muscle tissue and skin. You have been given a drug that will enhance all of your senses and enable you to do what no other human in the world can do, other than your peers. What I require you to do now is cooperate with me for a bit. Each mission that we accomplish will lead us one step closer to finding your sister."

Alex laughed at the bit about enchancements, "Yeah. Sure."

"I am dead serious, Alex, and if you don't believe me I'll have Triela prove it to you."

The girl that sat next to the German mumbled something in a language foreign to Alex; Capriani responded in the same tongue.

"What was that? Was that about me?"

"Giver her that gun." Capriani demanded, Alex obeying.

The blonde quickly disassembled the weapon. With a bit of effort, she twisted the barrel into a pretzel before tossing it back to Alex.

The boy was definitely not stupid; he had been fooling around with the pistol for a good half hour before hand. He knew that barrel was as hard as a rock, yet that girl formed it into a pastry like it was a hard piece of dough or taffy.

It was the German's turn to chatter in the foreign tongue, signaling to his watch.

"I'll explain more later on, Alex," Capriani rose to his feet, as did the German, "I have some business to attend to. In the mean time, Triela will show you around. Go and meet the others."

The two men quickly left, leaving Alex and the girl called Triela behind. He's had many relations with countless girls, so he was rather nonchalant about the situation. For her, however, this was the first time being alone with a peer of the opposite sex, so it was natural for her to be a little nervous.

"My name is Triela." She said with a heavy Italian accent.

"I'm Alex." he extended his hand to grasp and shake hers.

"Would you want to…eh… walk?" She fought to find the appropriate words, clenching her teeth when she realized that she hadn't formed the correct sentence. This being her 4th language to learn, some leeway had to be given.

"Sure." The girl quickly faced the floor as soon as Alex stood. "What is it?"

"You are… in the nude."

* * *

Of course, he wasn't nude per sé; he had a hospital gown on. Luckily, a pair of jeans, shoes and a t-shirt was delivered to him via the hands of another blonde girl, though she had a more normal skin complexion of the flesh kind. 

"Buon giorno," The girl seemed to be a few years younger than Triela and he, "Qui sono alcuni vestiti che Fillipo mi ha chiesto di portarvi."

Alex had no idea what the girl just said, "What?"

"She say, 'Fillipo bring you these clothes'." Triela translated.

Alex now knew why Capriani left him in Triela's care; apparently, she's the only one of the others like him that can speak some English.

"Thank you," He took the clothes from the girl's arms, "By the way, who's 'Fillipo'?"

After a few exchanges of chattering with the other girl, Triela said, "Fillipo… he is… your friend that you call Signore Capriani."

"Oh."

After he changed into his clothes, Alex exited his room expecting to meet up with Triela and the other girl whom he discovered to be named Rico. However, a gaggle of other girls joined Triela, forming what looked like a tour group. Mindless – or rather, meaningless chatter erupted once he stepped out.

"Triela," Alex asked, "Who are they?"

"Ah! Scusilo, Alex, these are 'the others' that Fillipo spoke of," She pointed to each girl when she called out her respective name, "Henrietta, Angelica, Claes, Pia, and Beatrice."

A round of "buon giornos" came from the girls, Alex responding with a half-assed "buon giorno", he smiled, "Are there anymore?" He was sarcastic, of course, but Triela didn't seem to know about English sarcasm.

"Eh… there is Elsa, but she is not of the friendly type. The boys are elsewhere, I believe."

After a few more exchanges of words between Triela and the other girls, Alex was lead to a room some 5 minutes of walking distance away from where he woke.

"Voi gradiscono un certo tè?" One of the girls he thought was called Henrietta, asked him. He, of course, didn't know what she was asking.

Triela had to translate, "She say, 'would you like tea'?"

Tea wasn't his favorite hot beverage, so he asked Triela to ask Henrietta if there was any coffee.

"Non abbiamo alcun caffè. Non siamo permessi berli." was Henrietta's response.

Triela immediately reported to Alex, "She say, "No coffee. We are not allowed to drink coffee'. Scusilo, Alex, we only have tea."

Reluctantly he accepted the offer and began to nurse a cup of tea.

"This is pretty good." He was surprised at the flavor. Soon offers of more tea and slices of cake was coming his way and he – trying not to be rude – accepted every one.

* * *

Although the memories of Alex were an issue that concerned Chief Lorenzo, Capriani, and the other agents, there was still another issue that bothered them. The language barrier that stood between the boy and the rest of the agency was something that needed to be dealt with. 

"I'll have him learn it as soon as possible." Capriani said as everyone agreed.

"For now, we'll have him paired up with Triela. I hope you're fine with that, Hillshire?" Lorenzo said.

"Not a problem, Chief," The German said, "Triela wants to learn some English, so this might be an excellent opportunity to absorb some from a native speaker."

"I'll teach him some Italian first thing tomorrow morning," Capriani repeated himself, "I want him to settle down before we do any kind of work."

"The boy's memories may handicap him some time in the future," A blonde man changed the subject, "What do we do about that?"

"Nothing," Lorenzo wiped his brow, "Dr. Bianchi said that they used the maximum dosage of the drug; any more and it'll be deadly."

Normally, Lorenzo would not allow such a cyborg to be left to roam the campus. However, the re-birth of Alex was the result of Lorenzo finding a series of open loopholes found in SWA jurisdictions, at the request of Capriani. Terminating the boy would just be a waste of time on his part, not to mention the shattering of the brotherhood between Capriani and himself.

"Let's just wait and see how he acts." Lorenzo continued.

His friend added, "I'll make sure that he follows orders."

* * *

_**lan·guage**  
Pronunciation: __'lang-gwij, -wij_

_**1 ** the words, their pronunciation, and the methods of combining them used and understood by a community._

_Note: Like all experimental writing, this style may seem a bit odd. However, for those that have an interest in the story, thank you for thoughing it out and staying with it._

_Also, this is an alternate universe... some of you may have been saying "ELSA IS DEAD! YOU FOOL!" in your heads. In this world she, Lauro, Raballo, Pia, and Arnester are alive. (Pia and Arnester are from the GSG game on PS2.)  
_


	3. He Advances Onward

Saying that Alex was born a hooligan and murderer would be a complete misunderstanding, and in fact, would be downright wrong – he was well taken care of as a child; receiving the attention of two loving parents and several dozen aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends.

No, mischief making was not in his blood.

Another suggestion would lead to necessity, though that would be an error as well - he was born into the middle class Williams family; they never had much, but whatever they did have was plenty enough for their standards.

He didn't need the things that he stole.

So what was the reason he became a well known thug amongst the streets?

He was bored.

"Nothing to do today," that was his excuse for mugging an elderly lady.

"My friend wanted to," was his excuse for starting a war with a rival gang.

"I don't really know," was his excuse for burning down a house.

As random as his movements were, he was not a fool to be trifled with. He only went for things that would prove to be useful later on; almost as if he were stockpiling. When any one of his targets roamed outside of the 4-mile radius that he had an eye on, he never bothered pursuing them.

This was one way that he kept an iron fist on his territory.

**_In Spite Of It All…_**

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

**_Chapter 3: …He Advances Onward_**

Of course, you can't keep all that attention without your parents knowing.

"Yea, YOU can't," would be Alex's response to whomever asked, "But I can."

His secret to keeping secrets was relatively simple; even the most moronic of mentally disabled people would understand this concept.

He kept his mouth shut.

Not a single one of his peons knew his real name (he went by the alias "Wolfgang"), and he never did reveal who his family was and where they lived. He even went so far as to adopt a mask, once he gathered a group of more than 50 followers. Keeping everything to himself would assure him complete anonymity, wherever her roamed, and nearly guarantee that his family – namely his sister – never knew of his dastardly deeds.

But eventually, someone did get a hold of his address, or who his mother was, or find out his true name. And that's where his abilities came in. Self-taught martial arts were the most effective way to rid of unwanted pests. It was also deadly under certain conditions.

"You aren't supposed to hurt her, dammit!" Capriani – now referred to as Fillipo – yelled at the boy, "This is sparring practice, not a boxing match!"

"Sorry," Alex apologized to the fallen girl, "I guess I still don't know my own strength."

Maybe his apology was rejected by the girl, or maybe she was frustrated at herself, maybe still, she didn't understand a word he spoke, but Elsa refused the hand he offered. She rose to her feet using what little strength she had left.

"Lo lasciate ucciderlo una nuova volta ed il vostro passaggio di fine settimana è revocato," Elsa's handler, Lauro, barked in her face, "Essete supposti di essere il suo anziano! Essete supposti di insegnargli una lezione!"

"Sì signore." Elsa responded.

Alex shrugged as he listened to Lauro's badgering, not knowing a single word that escaped his mouth. He looked to a girl that sat in the sidelines: his unofficial translator.

Triela thought for a moment before responding, "He say she needs to win or else she is to stay in her room for the weekend. He also say that she is the one who is supposed to be defeating you."

Setting up again for the last round, Alex contemplated letting the girl win. He may have been a brute in his home turf, but harming girls was something he never wanted to do. Not to mention the fact that being grounded for the weekend was embarrassing, even if he wasn't the one being grounded.

Elsa began her attack by pouncing on Alex. He fell back with little resistance, but began his struggle once on the floor and forced Elsa underneath him as he attempted to perform a choke hold. Elsa continued her attack, using her knees to land countless blows on Alex's sides.

Having endured about as much as he could, Alex threw the girl out from under him. She landed neatly on her feet, rushing head first into another flurry of attacks. Reacting quickly to the charging girl, Alex stepped aside and jabbed at the back of her head, much like a matador would do to a bull.

Elsa grew furious; she leaped into the air, her feet aim directly at Alex's face. Much to her surprise, her relatively slow counter connected with its intended target. Alex fell to the floor with a thud; Elsa landing on top of him to go in for the kill. She wrapped her arm around his neck and began to squeeze his throat.

"I like this." Alex squeaked a comment to his dominator, which garnered a laugh from anyone in the room who understood what he said.

Elsa mistook the laughs as an insult coming from the boy underneath her and was ready to crush his face in with her free hand when an interruption was made from the entrance.

"Arresto!" A blonde man whom Alex identified as Jean said, "Tutto alto pulito e rapporto alla stanza di istruzione. Noi siamo stati assegnati una missione."

Jean then turned to Fillipo and said, "Voi ed Alex siete desiderati pure, Fillipo"

Triela quickly translated for Alex, "Jean say, 'You and Fillipo are to go to the conference room'. I think we are to be assigned some work."

* * *

You'd think that after a month's worth of instruction, Alex should have – at the very least – a basic concept of the Italian language, but this seems to be the contrary. Even Flillipo's constant drill sergeant-like howling of basic Italian words wouldn't make its way into Alex's mind. 

Though the language may escape him for the moment, he did excel in one way that the other cyborgs did not: he still retained everything he learned in the past, so his knowledge of various disciplines in academia was second only to Claes. He often found himself lecturing his peers in history, some sciences, and even popular culture – Triela serving as his translator, of course.

Triela found his teaching methods to be of double value for her. Whenever she came across a word or a slang phrase she didn't understand, Alex would have to take a moment to explain what, for example, "Hangin' out" meant.

Eventually she graduated from the status of "English speaker" to "Fluent". Her goal, however, was to be able to speak English in the same way she was able to comprehend Italian, German, and French. In short, she wanted to become a native speaker, so slang was of great importance to her.

Important as it may be, she never found the right opportunity to use her newly acquired speech pattern. The meeting that Chief Lorenzo called for was – like any other meeting – pure business.

Upon entry, Triela was taken aside by Jean, and asked to translate for Alex. Apparently, he held an important role in this week's mission, so the outcome of the mission would rest on her accuracy in translating.

"Why can't Fillipo do it?" She protested.

Jean told her, "Fillipo will be the one who is briefing the mission."

Any and all arguments from her on were useless.

Once everything was set, Fillipo began the mission brief, with Triela simultaneously translating into Alex's ear. Like Alex's lectures, she would often pause to explain who a certain organization or person was.

"They found a retired member of Padania," She began, "Er… Padania is this group of people that is dedicated to separating Northern Italy from the rest."

The boy nodded. Whether it was in earnest, or if he was just being nice was only known to him.

Triela continued, "Your job is to lure him into a trap."

"And how exactly do I do that?"

"You are supposed to act like a lost American tourist."

"I doubt that's going to make him follow me."

"Uh," she continued, "This is strange for me to say, but…"

"What is it?"

"That man, Guido Vespucci, he is… how do you say… infatuated with young boys?" the rising inflection in her voice made it sound as if she were asking a question.

Alex reeled in disgust, "Hell no!"

The meeting halted at his comment; everyone stared in his direction.

"Alex, you have a question?" Fillipo asked.

"I am not going to be bait for an ass pounding sicko!"

Fillipo only smiled, continuing with his briefing once he got Alex to settle down.

Triela giggled, "I am sorry Alex, but you have been ordered to do so."

"Right…"

"I would not worry much, though; you have Pia and Elsa as backup. You'll probably be the one doing the pounding as well, no?"

Triela had no idea how awful and wrong her statement sounded to Alex.

* * *

Alex protested the idea of being bait. Not only was it so humiliating that even the primarily emotionless Elsa had the beginnings of a smile forming at the edge of her lips -- Alex could tell that she wasn't amused at his outfit composed of baggy clothing that he normally wore back him, so he was dressed as any American teenage would, so the only other reason would be his position as bait -- but it was also disgusting; the thought of an older man caressing his body made Alex sick. 

"He's right there. Go get him."

Once Fillipo uttered those words, Alex was, almost literally, booted out of the van he sat in, and was left to go to work. He adjusted his hat, which also served as his communication link to Fillipo, and approached the middle-aged target.

With an English-Italian dictionary in hand, he asked for directions in broken Italian, "Locanda Di Hilton? Dove è?"

The man leered at Alex with hungry eyes, "Segualo. Segualo."

Alex flipped through the dictionary to find a word, and said, "What? Um… Inglese?"

The man laughed and took the book away from Alex. He then turned to a page and pointed out the word "follow".

"Ah! Sì! Sì! I'll follow you."

And along they went. Easy as pie. American pie...

When a fair distance was put between the target and himself, Alex radioed back to Fillipo, "Allright, Fillipo, I'm following him."

"Yes, we can see you," Fillipo said, "Once you go inside a room; make sure you hold him until we get there. Beat him a little bit if you wish, but do not kill him, I cannot stress that enough," He paused a bit. The sounds that were being made were as if somebody were whispering in Fillipo's ear, "Ha! Pia says to take it easy on the man."

Alex grumbled, "I'm out."

The hotel that Vespucci lead Alex into was obviously not a Hilton of any kind, but it was Alex's role as the gullible American boy to play, so enter the building he did. The interior was a little rundown, but that only enhanced the Roman atmosphere. Beautiful fountains scattered about with miniature statues of the ancient gods and goddesses decorated the lobby, though the Indian rugs that covered the floor disrupted the Roman themed setting.

Once checked in, Vespucci lead Alex into a room located on the top most floor of the building; it would take quite some time before backup arrived. He would have to find a way to stall. The bathroom seemed to be a good start.

Behind the locked door of the bathroom, he whispered into his mic, radioing in to his comrades.

"Ok I'm alone in the room with him. What do I do now?"

"Where is he?" Fillipo asked.

"He's in the bedroom doing… something. I locked myself in the bathroom."

"Alright, we'll be there in a few minutes."

"Can you give me an ETA?"

"10."

"That's way too long. Hurry up."

"Why don't you pass the time by cuddling with him?"

Alex grumbled, "I'm out."

As soon as radio communication was cut, Vespucci opened the door to the batroom.

Alex cursed, _"Goddam European locks!"_

As if in a trance, Vespucci hugged the boy, smelling every nook and cranny of his hair.

"Sentite l'odore di piacevoli." He said.

Alex groaned. He recognized a few words the man whispered. It was something about smelling nice.

"Appena come quella ragazza americana ho avuto ultimo mese..."

Alex's blood began to boil. Vespucci mumbled something about an American girl last month; the dots were connecting in his mind. He jabbed the man's belly with his elbow, forcing him away. Alex then pinned the man's neck between his left hand and the wall from behind. Alex drew from his back a Springfield Armory XD Tactical pistol, shoving the barrel into the man's mouth.

"You will do as I say," Alex growled, "If you do not comply, I will fill your head with .40 caliber goodness."

The man quickly nodded.

"You say you knew an American girl from last month. Who is she?" He remembered that Vespucci wouldn't understand him, so he strained his mind to form a cohesive sentence with the little Italian he knew, "Quella ragazza dall'America. Chi è lei?"

The man's muffled response was not to Alex's liking.

"Non so. Alcuni uomini di Chechnya o del Russo la hanno avuta!"

"_Russian?" _Alex thought to himself, "_What the hell would Russians or Chechens__ want with little girls?"_

Alex asked for the girl's name. His eyes began to swell with tears when Vespucci answered.

"Hanno denominato il suo 'Abby'."

"You god damned monster!" Alex let all his inhibitions go. The custom hair-line trigger that he asked Fillipo to install could not restrict his movements any further.

* * *

Alex was not the kind of person that would allow trivial things, such as mistakes, to turn his mood sour. Failing his first mission did not bother him, neither did the scolding from Flippo; he spent the rest of the day out and about the campus of the SWA. Of course, he was accompanied by Triela and Angelica, as well as the male cyborgs Baldasarre and Ignazio. 

"Should you not be in your room?" Triela asked, "Is Fillipo not angry at you?"

"I don't care," Alex said, "The man I killed deserved it; he touched my little sister."

Ignazio asked him something that Triela had to convert, "Nacho say, 'How do you know he met your sister?'."

"He told me... the girl he 'met' last month was called 'Abby'; that's my little sister's nickname."

"You should not believe everything you hear." Triela translated Baldasarre's words.

"They're the only things that can lead me closer to finding my sister."

"I am sure that we will find her, Alex. You must be patient." Triela's own words.

"Patience is a luxury I can't – no, my sister can't afford."

* * *

Alex's actions were eventually forgotten; as the weeks passed, the missions that he accomplished more than made up for his error. He began to climb the non-existent ranks among the cyborgs, and his impromptu methods of completing missions earned him the respect of his peers including Elsa, though she would never admit it. 

As skillful as he was, his Italian was still very poor, and he could only form childish sentences. It was never understood why he was so damn horrible at the language, since he was nearly fluent in Spanish, but everyone realized that it couldn't have been helped. Others assumed that it was a side effect of his conditioning, and that eventually, like Triela, he would learn the language.

He did know when to leave a room, however, and today's meeting called for him, and the rest of the cyborgs, to do so. Apparently only adults were allowed, so off they went, doing what normal cyborg, assassin children do.

"Alex has been doing well," Lorenzo commented the results of Fillipo and Alex's most recent hit, "He's proving to be an excellent addition to our forces, my friend."

"Thank you." Fillipo said.

"His Italian still needs work, though." The ever pessimistic Jean said.

"He is progressing smoothly," Fillipo lied, "He'll be fluent by the end of the year."

"Even so," Lorenzo continued, "We are not here to discuss Alex. Instead, Dr. Bianchi has an announcement to make to all of you."

"Good afternoon, gentleman," Bianchi said, "I know you're all busy, so I'll get to the point," He gestured to a short man that stood next to him, "This is Carlo, he will be joining your ranks as soon as this meeting is over."

"Congratulations, Carlo," Jean was the first to say, "I don't see why Dr. Bianch had to introduce you, though."

"There is a reason," Bianchi continued, "Carlo will be the handler of the prototype of an experimental cyborg."

"And what's the difference?" Fillipo asked.

"This prototype uses a new technique in brainwashing. We have been studying Claes, Henrietta and Elsa quite extensively and realized that there was too much of their original personality left in them that, in the future, this could cause harm to you men."

Some of the handlers in the room gave a sound of disapproval, especially Jose. Already, the nay-sayers knew of what was to be announced.

"This cyborg's mind has been completely erased and reprogrammed. Language, fighting, consequences in actions; she only knows what is needed to get the job done right. She will never answer back, question orders, or need any sort of extracurricular activity. She has no particular preferances to anyone or anything, which means the Handler/Cybrog relationship is non-existant. She is a cyborg in the very definition of the word.

"Additionally, she has been pre-programmed with each of your cyborgs' characteristics and statistics so that she will automatically compensate for any and all proven disadvantages that particular operative suffers from. For example, when ever Heniretta's temper gets out of hand, this new cyborg will immediately disable her so that everyone else can continue with the mission. For about a month now, she has been training hand-in-hand with Carlo using multiple cyborg simulation sorties, and both have already proven themselves to be effective out in the field. In fact, in a simulation in which every fratello team was deployed, the prototype was forced to take action against each team, and was still able to complete the mission on her own."

Sweat drops began to form on Jose's fore-head. He and his partner had been single out; it was only a matter of time before this new cyborg would have to act; though saying that he was the only nervous handler in the room was an understatement.

"Gentleman, allow me to introduce you to the newest member of the Social Welfare Agency cyborg ranks: Celia."

A round of applause came only from Dr. Bianchi and Carlo. From behind the doctor stepped a little girl, the youngest of any of the cyborgs by far, and a sight of horror to Fillipo.

"Dear god," Fillipo gasped, "What have you done?"

* * *

_Note: Action was never a strong point of the Gunslinger Girl series… was it? Just kiddin' , of course. _

_Cliffhangers suck, don't they?_

_I like the "XD" part of the Springfield XD... nothing more than that... "ecks-fuckin'-dee"  
_


	4. He Is Blessed

One fine September evening, Henrietta's curiosity finally got the best of her. She couldn't help but ask Alex, "Why are you so dedicated to protecting your sister?" translated by none other than Triela.

Instead of going into a long rant about it, Alex answered simply, "Why shouldn't I be so dedicated? Do you have a reason why you want to protect Jose so much?"

The girl, nor any other cyborgs, questioned his motives again.

**_In Spite Of It All…_**

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

**_Chapter 4: …He is Blessed_**

Following the new fratello Carlo and Celia's introduction, an emergency meeting was held. The news that Fillipo reported was disturbing, especially to Dr. Bianchi who was now in danger of losing his life the moment he strayed away from the very room where he unveiled Celia only moments before.

"I-I had no idea." He murmured to himself as the handlers waited for their respective handles to arrive – Alex was the only one not summoned. Once assembled, Lorenzo and Jean quickly set up an impromptu layout of the situation.

"Jose, sir," Henrietta tugged at her handler's arm; she pointed at a pair of unfamiliar faces, "Who are they?"

The man only responded by shushing her. His older brother began to speak.

"We've called you cyborgs in here because something important has come up," he addressed the strange faces to the children, "This is Carlo and Celia. They will be working with us from now on."

Unenthusiastic responses filled the room.

"However," the room was silent again, "Their presence must not be known to Alex at ANY time."

"Don't tell me…" Triela was the most familiar with Alex, so it was no surprise that she had already jumped to a conclusion.

"Celia is the sister that Alex has been searching for," Jean had no emotion on his face and continued, "Triela, Elsa, Baldasarre; you are to keep an eye on him 24/7. You and your handlers are now permanently attached as a squad. He is, under no circumstances, to be within 100 meters from Celia at any time. Her room will be off limits to him. And she will be off limits to his room. We cannot take any risks until the Doctors at R&D come up with a solution for this mess.

"Pia, Ignazio, Claes, Angelica," he sighed, "The rest of you are too keep an eye on Dr. Bianchi. If Triela, Elsa, and Baldasarre happen to fail, Dr. Bianchi will obviously be the first target that Alex will want dead. 7 of you might be enough to restrain him until the rest of us arrive, or until your handlers can get a clear shot to sedate him," he unknowingly made a comment about Alex's skills, "Dr. Bianchi – how long will it be until you can… create another Celia?"

"Too much money was spent on her development," Dr. Bianchi shuddered, "We cannot make another. However, I could attempt to brainwash Alex agai—"

"Touch him and I'll kill you myself," Fillipo hissed, "This is your mistake; Alex will not suffer for it."

"Then the only solution is to get rid of Celia!" Bianchi pleaded.

"We do that and Draghi will see to it that Section 2 is dissolved," Lorenzo paused to drink double the dosage of anti-acid tablets, "It'll be hard to be fully operational with only 3 fratello teams on duty, but we'll have to manage until R&D can come up with something."

The meeting was adjourned, but not before a comment by Fillipo: "This is over-doing it. This plan will only delay the inevitable."

* * *

Its not that he didn't mind the company of his fellow cyborgs – he was already used to Triela and, in fact, was a bit uncomfortable without her around; Baldasarre was also fun to be around, and in the rare cases that Elsa was around only helped to make conversations more interesting – it just seemed odd to him that they accompanied him everywhere, including the now rarely assigned missions. The opportunity to ask about this never came, though, and he let it slip his mind.

Guard duty was an annoyance for Elsa. Usually during downtime, she would keep herself busy by cleaning her weapons, improving her aim, or polishing her one worldly possession. Alex, however, treated downtime just as such. He wouldn't study, practice, or clean; his bed was the only destination for him during those hours.

"Hey," Alex asked his peers that sat idly in his room, "Have you heard about the new kid around here?"

Triela's ears perked up, but she didn't react much more.

"Actually…" Triela began, but was interrupted.

"I heard the fratello team was from Israel," Alex was nonchalant; a good sign for Triela, "Apparently they're super secret, so we're not supposed to be near them. Too bad; I wanted to meet them too."

"Yes, it is too bad." Triela agreed, just to avoid any suspicion, "I have never met them as well." During this, Elsa asked what the two of them were speaking of, and she told the truth to her in their native tongue.

"Israel…" Alex sighed, "I'd like to stop by Jerusalem at least once. Maybe I'll ask Fillipo to go for Christmas."

"Why do you wish to travel to Israel?" Triela asked.

Alex answered after a brief moment, "So that I can pray for my sister's safety."

* * *

The day came faster than anyone anticipated. Whether it was an error caused by Triela, Elsa or Baldasarre, or whether is was another factor, the day that Alex came face to face with his sister was finally at hand.

A mission involving a raid of a warehouse only a few kilometers from the Agency was the location of the incident. Alex, Fillipo and their entourage were assigned to infiltrate the building, using highly aggressive tactics, since the remote location would not attract any attention. Or they had hoped.

Coincidentally, that very same day, Carlo and Dr. Bianchi were running accuracy tests on Celia's newly acquired muscle tissue for her arms. A 100-percent non-organic material was chosen, so adjustments had to be made. Unfortunately, they failed to realize that the farthest edge of the Agency grounds they chose to calibrate her arms – about 2 kilometers from the cyborg dormitory - was also the closest to the warehouse that Alex and co. were scheduled to crumble; they sat less than 1 kilometer from the building.

Celia's hearing was keener than that of any other cyborg; she was able to hear the grunts of her comrades as they tried to contain the building. She froze in place, analyzing the data that she was receiving and – after a few moments of zero activity – told Carlo: "I have determined that agents Triela, Hillshire, Baldasarre, Benniditto, Elsa, Lauro, Alex, and Fillipo are in need of assistance. Commencing attack pattern number 45" and hurdled the 15 foot tall gates before Carlo and Bianchi could do or say anything to halt her.

Indeed, this was the first time that Alex needed to radio for backup, but the raid was a bust at the word "Go". Apparently the Padania cells stationed here have already encountered the fierce tactics of a fratello team. Their heavy weaponry far outclasses the small arm the fratello units carried; they were able to create a standoff.

"Dialo in su, macchine! Facciamo indicare le armi pesanti un dozzina nel vostro senso!"

"Triela! What'd he say?" Alex was not used to asking Fillipo to translate anymore.

"He is asking for us to surrender! He has a dozen machineguns pointed at our position!" She turned to her handler and mission leader, and asked (in Italian), "Hillshire, sir, what do we do?"

He yelled, "Alex! Baldo! Generi una diversione!"

"What kind of diversion?" Alex asked.

"Anything, you fool!" The frustrated German yelled in thickly accented English, "Your hands, you rifle, sing "Oi say, you can see", do anything to draw their fire!"

"'Oi say, you can see'?" Alex was always the joker, "You mean 'O' Say? Can you see?' you goddam Nazi!"

"Maledizione del dio esso! Faccialo appena!" Fillipo cursed the giggling boy.

Whatever diversion that Alex and Baldo created, it was a good one; Hillshire saw that each of the Browning M2's the enemy had were now concentrating their fire in Alex's direction.

"Triela! Elsa! Base of fire on the targets to the right," Hillshire commanded over the gun fire, "Produce some covering fire while Lauro and I get in closer!"

The well thought out plan would have worked, but they were a bit too slow in the execution of it; the enemies that were their targets were already bleeding from their throats. Immediately Hillshire ordered for Triela and Elsa to get to Alex as quickly as possible and lead him out. He and Lauro already knew what the black liquid ghost that scurried from terrorist to terrorist was.

"Alex!" Triela called to him, "Evacuate the building! Now!"

Out of breath, and nearly drained of his strength from dodging large caliber bullets, Alex wasn't able to respond, but he did comprehend what she was saying. He galloped away from his cover, dragging behind him a wounded Baldo, and attempted to follow Fillipo and Banniditto outside, were it not for the mutilated body that landed just ahead of him, blocking his path.

"Jesus Christ," Alex grumbled, "Who the hell is our backup?"

With the gunfire silenced, Elsa and Triela heard his words and began to sprint toward Alex. They spotted his head tilting upwards, and his hands releasing his injured comrade, and his mouth agape at the person he saw perched on the balcony of the second floor.

They were too late.

* * *

Restrained like a wild animal: the feeling that Alex had in his mind. Chained to his bed, muzzle strapped on tight and Rico, Pia, and a pair of Barret M95s on guard duty; he was tied down from head to toe; fingers included.

He was unsure of what happened after he saw her, but he was damned sure that the shadowy figure he spotted above him in the raid the day before was his sister. Hell, it could have been 2, 3, or 4 days ago, he wasn't sure and it didn't really matter, but he was positive that he saw his sister.

"_Abigail,"_ He cried in his mind, _"What are you doing here? Who did this to you?"_

* * *

Another emergency meeting; a rare occasion compared to a standard work-month. However, they were called "emergencies" for a reason.

"You are lucky that Alex is handling this well, Bianchi," Fillipo didn't realize that he was also calm about the matter, "Don't get your hopes up, though."

Bianchi's face faded into a pale white.

"We have to get rid of Alex somehow," Marco suggested, "Israel is in need of agents, maybe we should send him there."

"Easier said than done, Marco," Hillshire said, "Alex and Triela spend a lot of time together, so I know how desperate the boy is. He might go after Bianchi, he might go after us; he's completely unpredictable at this point. I say we keep Alex under surveillance for a few days. Then, under heavy security, we'll gradually introduce Celia to him. Maybe now we can end this charade and operate at 100-percent."

"I am not risking the welfare of my cyborg just so that boy can do as he pleases!" Marco expressed his frustrations, "I've worked too hard to have Angelica where she's at now."

"We can't just get rid of him." Jose said.

"Bullshit! He's a threat to the organization!"

"You can't determine that just yet." Hillshire pointed out.

"He's going to go berserk when he finds out what we did to his sister. He never should have been kept alive when his memories were found to be intact. It was stupid to do so."

Lorenzo looked to his blood brother for any reaction, only to find none. He knew which direction the fate of Alex needed to be pointed to; he just couldn't bring himself to hurt his friend…

"We'll go with Hillshire's plan," Lorenzo choked out, "Alex is too valuable of a member of this agency. In addition, from my view he doesn't seem to be the type of person to get into a fit that easily. Marco, if you wish, you and Angelica do not have to participate in anything related to Alex."

"You're goddamned right we won't." Marco snorted.

"Okay then," He continued, "Jean. Arnester. Have your girls untie Alex. He's going to meet Celia tonight."

* * *

He ran. Once his restraints were loosened, he ran as fast as he could to the room he last saw his sister enter; Rico and Pia strained themselves trying to keep up with him. He didn't want to wait any longer. His sister was waiting for him.

Barging past the door, past the unfamiliar man, and past Dr. Bianchi, he wrapped his arms around the little girl, hugging her with all his might. At last they were together.

"Abigail," He sobbed, "Thank god."

He rocked back and fourth, not caring that the entire agency was gathered behind him; some of them armed to the teeth, escorting a terrified Bianchi out the room.

"Thank god." Alex repeated.

"Liberilo immediatamente." The girl said without emotion.

"Abby?" Alex peeled the girl from his chest and stared into her eyes, "Since when did you learn Italian?"

"Lo ripeto, libero o userò la forza."

"Alex," Fillipo was the only one brave enough to enter the room, "There's something I have to tell you. Abigail… she has been reconstructed... just like you."

To everyone's immediate shock, Alex replied, "I don't care. As long as she's alive and with me, I don't care."

* * *


	5. He Rests in Peace

It was her first birthday, so it was only natural for Alex to want to giver her something that she'll truly cherish. The only problem was that he knew nothing about a girl's likes or dislikes, and even then, would a 1 year-old be able to distinguish what he gave her as feminine or masculine? Probably not, but it still mattered to him.

He asked his closest friends, his neighbors, and even his parents for advice on what to get her and they all came up with the same answer: a doll.

But he wondered, _"What kind of doll?"_

There were millions upon millions of different brands, and just staring at them would not help him any further. Then, like a beacon in the distance, it – quite literally - called out to him. Nestled in the corner of the toy store was a display for the most sickeningly adorable mini faux human he ever saw.

"Soft and gentle," the metallic voice sang, "loving and caring!"

It was perfect. And her smiled proved how much it was so.

**_In Spite Of It All…_**

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

**_Chapter 5: …He Rests in Peace_**

The higher-ups at the agency could not have asked for a more perfect pair. Flawless in every sense of the word, Alex and Abigail (He refused to call her "Celia") swept through mission after mission with resounding success. Each sortie went according to plan because they _made_ it happen. They were brutal, ferocious, and deadly.

A true fratello.

Their results in the field, however, were the only positive items to note about their relationship. During downtime, Alex would overwork himself by trying to refresh his sister's memory. He even went so far as to feed her, wash her face, and help her go to sleep – though she never required any of these things.

And though it was glaringly obvious to everyone else, Alex didn't notice her lack of a human personality until her birthday came by. The cake he spent all night preparing went into everyone's stomachs besides hers. The gifts he acquired were simply tossed aside. He didn't understand why she was doing these things.

"Alex," Fillipo took him aside, hesitating to explain to the boy, "Celia… I mean Abigail can't remember anything from before the brainwashing."

"It can't be." Alex frowned.

"It is," Fillipo sighed, "She's completely changed."

"She's the same Abby."

"No she's not. She's no longer human!" It was too late for him to try and cover his mouth.

Alex reeled at his statement, "No!" He grabbed his sister's arm as she passed by. To his own surprise, what he grasped in his hands did not feel natural. There was no soft muscle or fat, no sense of skin upon skin, no warmth…

"Abby," reality was finally sinking into his mind, "You can't be gone…," he began to weep, "It can't be…"

* * *

From April onward, Alex's record began to deteriorate. No longer was he enthusiastic about his work. His grades in the class room were beginning to slip, targets during a mission were escaping from his hands, rifles went unclean, and most notably of all, he was no longer sociable toward others, especially Celia.

It dawned upon Triela that she hasn't heard his voice in weeks. In fact, upon investigation, nobody heard the boy speak, not even Fillipo. She decided that it was time for him to unzip his lips.

"Alex?" she knocked on his door, "It's Triela. May I come in?"

"Sure." He mumbled from the other side.

"_Well that was easy enough," _She smiled to herself as she walked in, "Buon giorno, Alex."

She found him sitting at his desk, studying some sort of manual.

"Hmm."

"Umm," She thought for a moment, "We haven't seen you around much, you know."

"'We'?" Alex questioned.

"Well I mean Henrietta, Rico, Pia, even Elsa… everyone else… and I."

"I'm still here," Alex said, "Doesn't mean I'm gone."

"I see," She peeked over his shoulder, "What is it that you're reading?"

"The official report on the St. Athanasius of Alexandria school bombings."

"Oh?"

"I'm trying to figure out what the goals of the Chechen terrorists were."

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," He turned the page, "All I know is that those goddamned bastards did this to me! To my sister!" He threw the manual behind him, "Because of them we're fucked up like this!"

Triela tried to calm him down, "I understand your pain. But the fact is this: it is in the past and you cannot change that."

"I know," He balled his fists tighter, "I know…"

Triela continued, "I feel sorry for you, Alex, but you cannot go on thinking this way. It is unhealthy. Do not try to live in the past, but instead just refer to it."

"Right…"

"You are now a member of this agency. You are unique in that you know of your past before you were forced in. It pains me to say this, but you are no longer the Alex that you once knew."

"I know."

"Your sister, as well," Triela chocked out, "She is no longer the sister that you once loved, but is instead a shell of her former self."

Alex had no response.

"She is now a doll—"

Alex jumped from his seat with the same energy he had months ago, "That's it!" He took Triela's hands into his own, "That's it!"

Triela's near tear swelled eyes were quickly drained by Alex's actions, "Wh-what's it?" She managed to say.

"Her doll!" Alex said after he ceased from jumping, "If I get her old doll back, then maybe, just maybe, she'll remember me!"

Before triela could talk any sense into the boy, they were both already over the fence surrounding the SWA campus. For the first time since her admittance into the agency, Triela was outside without permission.

* * *

"We should not be here, Alex," Triela peered over her shoulders, knowing that Jean, Jose, Arnester, and their respective handlers were in Rome on duty, "We are going to be in trouble if somebody were to find us."

"Don't worry," Alex said as he rummaged through a pile of dolls, "Fillipo won't be mad."

"It's not Fillipo I'm worried about."

"I thought you weren't scared of Hillshire?" The renewed energy within Alex began to flow.

Triela blushed, "I am not scared of him!" she nearly shouted, "It's Lorenzo that I'm worried about."

Alex ignored her, he was too busy sweeping the toy store they were in.

"Damn!" he cursed, "Not here. Triela, do you know of any other toy stores here?"

"No I do not," She said, "Now let us go back to the agency before anything happens."

"You go on ahead," Alex's attention was elsewhere, "I'll roam around and look for another store for a while."

"Stupido!" She insulted him, "I do not know the way back!"

"Oh…" Alex mumbled, already a few dozen feet away from the girl.

* * *

A knock came from Lorenzo's door. Though he was already speaking with Fillipo, he called out, "Come in."

As the door opened a tiny frame appeared from behind.

"Oh, Celia," Lorenzo paused his work, "How may I help you?"

"Alex isn't in his room." She answered bluntly.

"What? What do you mean?" Fillipo asked.

"At this hour everyday, Carlo orders me to report to Alex so that he can read to me and attempt to feed me."

Another knock on the door; Carlo peeking inside.

"Sir," he faced Lorenzo, "I have reports from a few witnesses that Alex was seen jumping the fences and escaping into Rome. He was reportedly dragging Triela as well."

"Escaping?" Lorenzo asked, "What does he want?"

"I don't know, sir, but given his recent performance and mental evaluation, we cannot take any risks. He might have went beserk."

"Wait a minute?" Fillipo said, "Are you suggesting that—"

"We need to stop him as soon as possible before anyone is hurt."

Fillipo turned to his friend, "Giovanni, you can't let this happen!"

There was no emotion on Lorenzo's face. He said in a solemn tone, "Carlo's right. The past few weeks for Alex has been disappointing, to say the least. He suffers from too many injuries; resources are tight right now, Fillipo…"

"Wait," Fillipo begged, "He's my responsibility!"

"Then you stop him." Carlo pointed out.

No response came from the man.

"Celia and I will head out," Carlo snapped the little girl's attention, "I'll call Jean, Jose and Arnester to warn them." Before anything else was said, Carlo and Celia were out the door, starting the pursuit of Alex.

"Fillipo…," Lorenzo sat in his chair, "I'm sorry."

* * *

"Found it!" Alex jumped for joy as he held a doll identical to the one he gave his sister many years ago, "Finally!"

"Let us return to the agency, Alex," Triela begged, "We are most likely in trouble now."

"Yeah, I guess," Alex said as he finished his transaction with the cashier, "Let's go."

Upon exiting the store, a familiar voice called out to them.

"Alex! Triela! Arrestisi dove siete e vi trovate faccia giù sul pavimento!"

Alex turned to see Arnester and Pia in the distance. Stranger still, they had their weapons drawn, forcing a mixed reaction from surrounding witnesses.

"Alex!" Triela said, "Arnester wants us to lie down on the ground."

"What?" Alex asked, "Why?"

Soon, another familiar voice repeated the orders.

"Carlo?" Alex confirmed it was him.

"Maledicalo!" Triela sat on the ground, "I knew were should have returned sooner."

"You aren't in trouble," Alex said, "It's me they want."

He raised his arms, "Hold on, you guys, I'll go back quietly."

He began to advance towards Carlo, but a sudden rush of adrenaline spread throughout his body; he dashed forward in a failed attempt to escape a slicing blade. He fell to the floor; blood began to spill onto the ground. The source was unknown to him, but his back began to throb in pain.

"Wh-What the?" He slowly rose to his knees, "Wh-Who did that?"

The perpetrator revealed herself before him. He reacted with a smile.

"Abby," he coughed, "I-I bought this for you…"

He raised his arm that was holding a doll "Take it. It's just like the doll I gave you for your first birthday."

The girl studied the doll for a moment.

"You remember, right?"

"Siete stati ritenuti una minaccia; dovete essere eliminati." She said with no emotion, bringing the blade in her hands to plunge into Alex's heart. Once the handguard touched his chest, she reversed the blade's direction, removing it from its target with a ghastly noise.

* * *


	6. Footprints in the Sand

**_Epilogue_**

_He awoke to the dull sound of a door closing just ahead of him. He slowly opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them again; the shine of bright fluorescent bulbs shining from the dull, gray ceiling._

_Adjusting to the light, he heard the clicking of footsteps approach him. He wanted to see who it was, but his entire body ached._

"_Hello." The warm voice greeted him._

_The boy forced his head up, squinting at the shadowy figure that sat at his bedside. He could just barley make out the outline of a man's face, noticing that he had a faint smile._

"_This is yours." The man took the boy's hand and placed a cold metal object in his palms. After a few seconds of feeling the details of the object, the boy gulped, realizing that it was a handgun._

"_My name is Fillipo," A name that the boy had never heard before, "I'll be your handler from now on."_

_**The End**_

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* * *

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Note: Well now… that's all for my experimental story. Many thanks for reading and a special thanks to all the reviewers.

- Sintendo


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